


Buycika

by ScribbledGhost



Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Din forgets the Basic words for things and it's cute, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-02
Updated: 2020-09-02
Packaged: 2021-03-19 06:08:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29870325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScribbledGhost/pseuds/ScribbledGhost
Summary: Sometimes Din can only remember the Mando'a words for things. You help him out in times like these, and it leads to some interesting revelations about the language.
Relationships: Din Djarin/Reader
Comments: 1
Kudos: 9





	Buycika

**Author's Note:**

> "Buycika" - cradle. Diminutive form of "buy’ce" - helmet.

Every so often Din would confide things in you. He told you of his own foundling nature, told you of his upbringing in his covert. Sometimes, when the two of you were curled together inside the pitch black belly of the Razor Crest, he would tell you how he questioned whether or not he was truly a Mandalorian.

He would tell you that he sometimes wondered if he was meant to be who he was. If others in his culture saw him as a legitimate Mandalorian or if they only saw him as another foundling with dreams too large for himself. You would always reassure him, always tell him that of course he was a Mandalorian. Of course he belonged among the people who raised him. Din would always shift against you, as if he were unsure if he believed you.

While you always knew deep within yourself that he was a Mandalorian through and through, sometimes that sentiment became even more pronounced. And it never happened more than when he would forget certain words, knowing them in Mando’a but not immediately remembering them in Basic.

You found your way to the cockpit of the Crest one evening, finding Din sitting in his pilots chair as the ship jumped into hyperspace.

“Hey,” you said softly as you walked over to Din, the starlight beginning to streak past the windows.

“Hey yourself, _cyar’ika_ ,”Din murmured, extending a hand that you gladly took. He pulled you over to his side, leaning over so as to lay his helmet on your chest while he slid his hand around to your back. You knew it would only be a matter of time before he retracted his hand just long enough to remove his leather glove before tenderly sliding it up your shirt to feel your skin along the expanse of your back. If there was one things you knew about Din, it was that he craved skin-to-skin contact in any way he could get it.

Sure enough, not even a minute later he did just that, sending a shiver through you as his warm hand ran up your back against the cold of the Crest. His head never moved from where it was leaned against you, and you found your own hand gently pushing aside the fabric covering his neck so you could brush your fingertips against the skin at the nape of his neck.

“Where’s the little one?” You asked softly.

“He’s fine,” Din responded, “he’s asleep in his…. er… his uh… uhm. I can’t remember the Basic word for it. He’s asleep in his _buycika_.”

“Why don’t you translate it directly? Maybe it’ll help,” you offered. You had a feeling you knew what word he was referring to, but he’d told you long ago to just let him figure out the word himself. He didn’t want you to just hand the knowledge to him. He wanted to earn it. Besides, you both knew that he knew what the word was. He just couldn’t think of any word besides the Mando’a word for the moment.

“He’s in his little helmet, sleeping,” he said softly, before quickly following the sentence with “cradle. He’s in his cradle.”

“The Mando’a word for cradle means ‘little helmet’?” you asked, “That’s adorable.”

Din hummed in response.

“Well, it makes sense,” he said, “our helmets protect us. Cradles protect the young ones. Seems logical to me.”

You laughed quietly at the scene that had just unfolded before you, prompting Din to lift his head from your chest to look at you before asking what was so funny.

“Nothing, nothing,” you said with a smile, “it’s just that… I don’t know, the fact that sometimes you only remember the Mando’a words for things just really drives home how much of a Mandalorian you are. Through and through.”

“Sometimes I only remember the Basic words for things though,” he countered.

“Yeah,” you acquiesced, “but you always take longer to remember the Basic words than you do the Mando’a ones. You’re more used to Mando’a. Not that I’d expect anything else from the man who’s more Mandalorian than anyone else I’ve ever met.”

You heard a faint puff of air escape through his modulator, a quiet laugh that you knew would have been coupled with a grin had you been able to see his face.

“Yeah,” he said quietly, leaning over to rest his head against your chest once more to let your fingers massage the skin at the back of his neck, “maybe so, _mesh’la_.”


End file.
